


Kismet Rewritten

by fenrirfervor



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Depression, F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:21:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23272387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fenrirfervor/pseuds/fenrirfervor
Summary: "I can almost hear the wheels turning in your head darling. Fighting will get you nowhere. I am bigger, stronger, faster and better at the chase than you are," the man said. "You won't believe me now, Hermione, but know that your survival depends on me. Come along like a good girl, love, and everything will be okay." Her blood ran cold. She knew that voice. She would never forget his voice.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Fenrir Greyback
Comments: 18
Kudos: 97





	1. Better at the Chase

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys so this is Kismet (the unfinished fic from 2012) rewritten. Things will definitely be a little different. I already made a ton of changes to this first chapter. I hope you like this version a little better.  
> Important things to remember:  
> -trigger warnings. i dont intend for this to be a dark fic but Fenrir is a dark character and I have to give that a forgivable background and Hermione just got out of a war. please know there will be a lot of trigger items. PLEASE read at your own risk.  
> -both characters are on the edge of insanity. they will both be out of character.

Chapter One: Better at the Chase

"I...I don't know where to start."  
"From the beginning as always."  
Staring at the young therapist who sat across from her, she once again questioned what this woman could possibly know of war. She was a striking figure. Tall with long legs that made even her hip hugging pencil skirt look provocative. Hermione's eyes scanned from her crisp white shirt to her red stiletto heels, mentally calculating whether the blonde in front of her posed a threat. Only to men, she concluded again. Only a threat to men, she’s only seen the war of love. She couldn’t relate to Hermione but she wasn’t dangerous to her either.  
Each week she would evaluate the woman in front of her. The war had ended three years ago but her need for constant vigilance didn't. She felt Moody would be proud if he could see her now. Unfortunately most of the wizarding world wasn’t. She always seemed to be found lacking in one way or another.  
"Ron got married last weekend."  
"Is that so?"  
Hermione felt the familiar urge to lash out. Picking at a loose thread on the chair, Hermione counted to ten. She was told in her first meeting that those replies were nothing more than defensive walls and were unwelcome here in the therapy sessions.  
"Yes," blank, unfeeling, walls restored...safe.  
"You didn't mention that he was seeing anyone."  
"It must have slipped my mind." blank, unfeeling, safe.  
With a sigh the therapist clicked her pen closed and rested her hands on her lap, atop a yellow paged notebook. In their first meeting Hermione had been comforted by the fact that woman was a muggle. That she wouldn’t know who Hermione Granger was, that she wouldn’t hold her to the impossible standards that seemed to follow her around.  
That was until the woman started using her pen to indicate her frustration. Merlin, how Hermione hated that pen. What she wouldn’t give to reach out and just snap the damn thing!  
One...two...three...four...  
"Ms. Granger, I can only help you if you want to be helped. Within these walls, everything that you say stays between the two of us. I would appreciate it if you were honest with me; otherwise these meetings are nothing more than a waste of our time."  
Five...six...  
Why did this have to be so hard? No, she knew why. Talking about your feelings isn't something that's done in war; it's something that is dealt with afterwards. She had learned to build a wall around her emotions to help her deal with it all. At the time, it had worked great. Now she found it almost impossible to bring down those walls. Surely if those walls broke, so would she.  
Seven...eight...nine...ten.  
Deep breath. Blank. Unfeeling. Walls in place. Safe.  
"That's why I have stayed with the Order for so long. At first, everyone stayed. It was Harry, Ron and I just like always. It was like it was a part of us. We were the Order. Then slowly people started to leave. Members we didn't know at first or a Weasley here and there. It would always start with a few missed meetings. No big deal. Just a brief about a few rogue death eaters, a few missing persons turned up, more speculation about dark artifacts at the Malfoys.No one wanted to focus on that. That was okay when it was everyone else. Then Harry left. Ginny was planning the wedding. She was getting upset that it was taking so much of his time. It seemed silly for him to stay. He already gave up so much. It was okay... Ron… he never officially left. He just stopped showing up. Stopped replying to my owls. Stopped coming to spend the night."  
A pregnant pause filled the air. In the year that Hermione had been going to these sessions, this was the most she had opened up. In this uncharted territory, there was no line of how far this would go or for how long it would last.  
"But you didn't. You didn’t stop sending the owls and you didn’t stop going to the meetings." It wasn’t a question.  
“No. Not until Witch Weekly did a cover on the two thirds of the Golden Trio out on a double date. I obviously wasn’t one of them. The next week we had raided an old Lestrange house and found a half dozen missing people nearly starved to death. It felt like the Order had meaning again.”  
"Hope of another big break keeps you there?"  
"That and the fear of letting go and having nothing."  
The strained conversation once again stalled. It seemed neither wanted to push or pull too hard.  
“Is there a stopping point for you?”  
“Yes and no.”  
“Oh?” her pen clicked back open, primed and ready to open every deep thought Hermione had down on that fucking bright yellow paper.  
"Bringing in Greyback. When he and the scavengers had captured us and brought us back to Malfoy Manor he had a special interest in keeping me. Bellatrix had given him permission before we were rescued. I had thought it was because I was the only non-pureblood there, the only one he was allowed to have. The people we found at the raid there was a girl. She said she was part of his pack. She was insane. She just kept screaming at me,” Hermione's voice cracked slightly as her eyes started to burn with tears. She hastily wiped them away, ashamed of letting so much emotion show. She tried to strengthen her emotional wall but it didn’t feel strong enough. Mentally she went through the process.  
Blank, check.  
Deep breath in. Slow breath out.  
Unfeeling. Check.  
Walls up. Check.  
Safe. Check.  
"Next session we will talk about your capture and your time in Malfoy Manor. We are making great progress today and I would like to continue with this topic. Tell me why you think she lashed out at you."  
"She told me why. She said that I belonged to Greyback," Hermione answered.  
"Why do you think Greyback would still hold an interest in you?"  
"She kept saying that he told them that I am his mate, that I’m not to be hurt because I am his. I go to visit her in the hospital. She hasn't talked to me since. She just sits and stares out the window."  
"You don't believe that you could be his mate?" the therapist asked.Merlin help her, the woman at least tried. Sworn to secrecy she has tried to keep up with the understanding of the magical world, but times like this made it obvious she had no idea.  
"No. I believe that she’s part of his pack. I just don't believe he told them that I’m his mate. I think she went too long with just other prisoners to talk to. Maybe seeing a sudden rush of people scared her. Maybe she recognized me and wanted to scare me. A last laugh of sorts. She wants me looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life. The rest of it just doesn't make sense. If it were true, I would be like him. Mates are fated. Their souls belong together. I know I’ve done some bad things but my soul can’t be the match to his."  
"You are quite the logical person.” Something in her voice hinted that wasn’t a compliment, “ Our hour has run its course. We will retouch some of this next time. In the meantime, if you visit again try to be supportive of her but not invasive."  
With that being said, the healer walked Hermione to the building's door. The last appointment of the day meant it was already dark outside.  
Walking out the door and down the front steps, Hermione did a sweep of her surroundings. Nothing seemed amiss. A street light half way between her and the Apparition point was out and two men were sitting on the steps two houses down having a cigarette and having a hushed conversation.  
Rolling her eyes at their bad habit, she began down the street. Emotionally exhausted and physically tired from the long day filing requests at the Ministry and her weekly therapy appointment, she was ready to climb into her warm bed and forget the day for a little while.  
After walking past the two men, who didn't so much as pause in their conversation, Hermione lost herself in reflection of what was said tonight and how to apply it tomorrow.  
She would tackle the thoughts of Ron’s marriage later, when she lay in bed and couldn’t sleep and couldn’t keep her walls up. Then she would deal with the wedding she didn’t attend. Christine, the werewolf girl, she could think about now though. That was a girl that had a hard road in front of her. Being in Greyback’s pack meant she would automatically be under suspicion of war crimes, no matter where they found her. Hermione intended to be there for her and help her through every speed bump she may hit. There was just something about the girl that made Hermione want to get close, to get to know her. Getting her to trust her was the prob-  
Suddenly, what felt like a band of steel wrapped around Hermione's arms and waist as a large hand tangled itself in her hair. Her heart started to race as she tried to think of all the options she had. She could see the Apparition point a mere ten feet in front of her. That seemed like the best choice. She needed her hands free to access her wand. Stun and run. The muggle would think he just fell in the struggle and knocked himself out.  
"I can almost hear the wheels turning in your head darling. Fighting will get you nowhere. I am bigger, stronger, faster and better at the chase than you are," the man said. "You won't believe me now, Hermione, but know that your survival depends on me. Come along like a good girl, love, and everything will be okay." Her blood ran cold. She knew that voice. She would never forget his voice.  
Fenrir pulled her back against him, his larger frame swallowing hers, lifting her so her feet didn’t quite touch the ground. Leaning in, he nestled his face against her neck and took a deep breath.  
"As perfect as I remember."  
There it was. His voice again. Enough to shock her into shutting down and enough to shock her right back into action. Fight or flight, anything but freeze. Hermione started to scream. Thrashing wildly, she had to get away. Facts about survival rates of kidnap victims ran through her head. This was not Rodolphus Lestrange. They would not lock her in their basement and forget about her. They? Shit yes she could just see another man standing calmly next to Fenrir.  
Fuck. Her stomach fell as dread hit her full force. These were the two men sitting on the stoop smoking. Yes, now that she was paying attention to it, they reeked of stale cigarettes.  
Moody wouldn't have been proud of her. He would have been just as disappointed in her as everyone else in her life. She had seen the danger clear as day and dismissed it.  
That thought was more than she could take. Everything seemed too hard to take any more. Since she was an eleven-year-old girl, she was dragged into a war that was not hers to fight, a war that should have been over a generation earlier. Now she was just a twenty-two year old girl whose friends are happier without her in their life. Everyone was happier, better without her. Tired. Just so tired of being a disappointment. Her wall was broken. She could feel everything. She wasn’t safe. Falling limp, Hermione let Fenrir support all of her weight. She began to sob, to beg, to apologize.  
"Whatever I did, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please. I won't tell anyone that I saw you. I’m sorry. I just want to go home."  
Fenrir who had gently lowered her to the ground and crouched, his massive body seeming to encase her smaller one, gently ran his fingers through her tangled hair as he answered, "That's a relief, love. I am taking you home."  
Something in what he said didn’t sound right. She had to clear her mind, she had to think damn it.  
It seemed all she could do is beg, "No. No, please. Just let me go. Please."  
Fenrir's companion began to chuckle. "You can have the pick of the litter and you find a girl who begs not to be chosen. Up for a challenge in every department, Alpha?"  
His humor-filled tone sent a spike of fury through Hermione. Anger, yes, she could use this. Deep breath. Blank. Anger. Wall. Think.  
There it is. Sitting down here on the ground she could reach her pocket. She could reach her wand! In a quick motion, she pulled it free, pointed it at the arm around her and shot off a Stupefy! As Fenrir fell the rest of the way to the ground unconscious, Hermione whirled on the man lunging at her.  
There was a man lunging at her. A man was lunging at her! They didn’t like her for her blood! If they caught her they would hurt her but she had to find Harry. Harry had run off to confront Voldemort and she had to find him! But there was a man lunging at her for her dirty blood. He would hurt her if he caught her!  
“CRUCIO!”  
Red. All she could see was red. Where was the pain? She was screaming but where was the pain?  
No. With a nauseating twist everything clicked. She wasn’t screaming. He was. She wasn’t at the Battle of Hogwarts and she wasn’t at Malfoy Manor. She was in the middle of the fucking path crucioing this poor werewolf bastard that she didn’t even know. Fuck.  
She stood there in shock for several more scream-filled moments before her mind fully wrapped around what was happening. Dropping her curse, she ran towards the Apparition point. The plan had been to get to the Apparition point. It wasn’t to torture, what she had to assume was, a pack member of the most feared werewolf in the world.  
Seven feet away, she could make it.  
Five feet. Wand at the ready.  
Three feet.. Wind knocked from her body, sprawled on the ground. Three feet from freedom with a massive body laying on top of hers. She couldn’t breathe. She wanted to scream, cry, and fight; but she couldn’t breathe.  
She almost didn’t recognize the voice above her. It was him and she thought she would always know his voice but it was filled with such hate. "The funny thing about werewolf blood is that stunning spells don't work for long. The problem is now you have hurt someone under my care. If you were anyone else this would have earned you a slow death. I wasn’t stupid enough to think you’d be thankful to be my mate, but I expected you to act with morals like a fucking Luna would. But if you want to act like a stray bitch, I’ll damn sure treat you like one."


	2. Off the Deep End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Are we there yet?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember that this fic will be filled with trigger topics. Read at your own risk.   
> Also Hermione and Fenrir are literally a little insane right now. They will be out of character for a few chapters.

Chapter Two: Off the Deep End   
She felt him turn his body and focus his attention behind them. "Derek, are you alright?"  
With a shaky voice, she heard him answer, "Yes, Alpha."  
"Come snap her wand then. We don't want a repeat of that."  
She heard some shuffling behind her and then slow footsteps coming towards her.  
She watched as Derek limped past her and made his way to her wand that ironically had landed in the Apparition zone. He simply stepped on it but the sound of it snapping was more heartbreaking than it would have been had he made a big production of it. A broken sob escaped her throat as Greyback tangled his hand roughly in her hair and pulled her to her feet. There was nothing gentle about the way he guided her by her long strands to where Derek was standing.  
"Ready?"  
"Yes, Alpha," Derek responded.  
With that, the main street in the quiet town was once again peaceful.  
-*-  
Sidelong Apparation always made Hermione sick but not being prepared for it was even worse. Not that Greyback seemed very sympathetic to her plight. Gagging and doubled over, she felt him impatiently tighten his grip in her hair. Despite the bite of pain at her roots, it took several moments for her to calm her stomach enough that she was sure she wouldn't get sick.  
"Please let me go. Please. I-"  
"Shut up, bitch." Fenrir's cruel tone interrupted her.  
Fuck. The statistics of secondary locations ran through her mind. She was kidnapped with no way home and no idea where she was. She wasn’t going to survive this. Hermione began to sob as he not-so-gently led her into the forest.  
The walk was quiet and slow, giving Hermione a chance to calm herself enough to think. They must have walked well over a mile by now. She still didn’t believe that rot about mates but he obviously wanted her alive, he had already had plenty of opportunities to kill her. Thinking about her probable eventual demise helped her from feeling too guilty about Derek’s limp that left him struggling to keep even this slow pace. She hadn’t meant to use an unforgivable on him, honest.   
A chill ran up her spine. What was she turning into that she could just accidentally torture someone?  
Hermione stepped further into Fenrir. The man radiated an unnatural amount of heat and relieved some of her headache. Damn him and his grip.   
Another half of a mile went by before Hermione saw the outline of an old run-down hunting cabin. Dread filled her stomach like a bag of rocks. One step closer to her untimely death.   
A narrow set of concrete steps led to the front door.  
Fenrir approached them first, “watch the bitch while I open the wards. Who knows what she’ll try.”  
“Yes, Alpha.”   
Something sounded off about Derek’s voice as if he had pulled too much strength together to answer. She knew that sound from the boys when they were on the run.   
Greyback let go of her hair, turning his focus towards the door in front of them but Hermione turned to focus her attention on the man behind her. There in the sagging of the shoulders and the unnatural hue of the skin. He was physically and magically exhausted. His body needed rest but instead, he pushed on, fueling it with his magic.   
Should Hermione tell his alpha that he was swaying back and forth? Hermione watched as he widened his step to steady himself but it was too much!   
Hermione lunged for him as he started to flail! He was going to fall right off the side of the steps! She had to save him! Throwing herself down the few steps that separated them, she reached out, almost grabbing his arm before she was jerked with unnatural force. Fuck she was falling!  
Hitting the ground hard, Hermione tried to jump back to her feet before stumbling over a couple of rocks and losing her balance, crashing once again to the ground. Tears blurred her vision as pain radiated throughout her body. Everything hurt.  
She heard Derek and Greyback cursing a short distance away. After quickly wiping at her eyes so her momentary weakness wouldn't show, she looked herself over for injuries. After all the poor treatment it received in the last few hours her scalp was unbelievably sore, a rather large sore spot dominated one arse cheek, and she was sure she had sprained her wrist trying to catch herself after the werewolf's apparent toss.  
Still staring down at her body, she ignored the approaching footsteps.   
Fenrir knelt at her feet. His voice was uncharacteristically soft, "Are you okay, love?"

Hermione refused to answer. So deep part of her twisted at hearing a kind tone. How long had it been since someone cared about her? How messed up was she that he would be the only one to even act like he cared about her? Why did a little part of her want to let him comfort her? Did Stockholm happen this fast? He had done terrible, nasty things to the wizarding world and he was a downright prick to her tonight.   
She did look up when Derek knelt down by her though. After all, he hadn’t done anything to her. Well, besides help kidnap her. Still, she had tortured him so maybe he had paid for that already.   
“And here I didn’t think you liked me,” he started teasing with a half-cocked grin. “You scared the Alpha right into thinking you were making a run for it. Got yourself tossed right off the tall end of the stairs and I still fell the few feet down on my end! You’re bad at this saving people stuff. Still it’s the thought that counts. Are you hurt? What can I ever do to repay you?”  
"Take me home," her simple statement was filled with no real amount of hope or conviction. They had come this far. They weren’t just going to let her walk off now.   
"Then it's your lucky day madam. That's where we were planning on taking you," Derek's answer was easy and cheerful as if he really had just given her what she asked for.   
The men stood and offered to help her from her place on the cold, hard ground. Hermione ignored them both and instead struggled to stand without using her injured wrist.  
"Are you hurt?" He sounded more urgent this time but the hints of concern in his voice still created those uneasy sparks within her.  
"That tends to happen when someone is thrown about like a doll," Hermione could just hear her therapist talking about “defensive walls” and “lashing out” over her answer. Damn that woman and damn Greyback and his fucking steps.   
"If you can walk, we're almost there and I will have the healer look you over soon."  
Without answering Hermione started walking back towards the steps. She would be healed. At least that's something. Escape could wait until after that.   
The small cabin was unremarkable. The old couch still looked like heaven to Hermione, though. Greyback followed closely behind her as she made her way across the room. It was unnerving. This was not her friend, this was not a normal man. This was nothing less than a serial killing predator behind her.   
Wrapped up in her thoughts and the vulnerable feeling of having him at her back, she almost screamed when his hand wrapped around her upper arm. Coming down from the scare it took her a few seconds to realize that he was leading her to a door in the back.   
“What’s in there?”  
“Home,” was all Fenrir answered before lifting his wand to the keyhole before pushing the door open.


End file.
